Memoir Inanis

Two months had passed since I decided to hunt down the ghost. The name on the bounty truly did not exist. There was not a single record or trace of the man they called Shiva. Normally, there would be some trace—childhood records, former friends, former victims, or even hearsay. However, this did not mean that the two months I had spent looking for him were futile.

One of the bandits I had killed held a peculiar memory. It was more blurred and shaky than the rest of his memories, yet it stood out like a beacon. It depicted a man holding up a collapsing bridge with his bare hands for a caravan the bandit and his team were attempting to raid.

The man had not only saved the caravan but also proceeded to jump the gorge after it crossed, wiping out the bandit's entire team and leaving him as the sole survivor.

Just before the man passed out, the figure standing over him said, "Remember the name Cain." He left the poor bandit with nothing but those words.

There was always the possibility that the memory was a fabrication, born out of the bandit's drunken delusions or fractured mind.

Yet, it remained my only lead to finding the ghost—the elusive figure I had chosen to call him. That memory led me to an almost fully abandoned and run-down city.

The city's desolation was suffocating. All the buildings either teetered on the brink of collapse or had already succumbed.

The few remaining inhabitants wore lifeless expressions, their faces marked by the scars of a lifetime spent enduring the worst the world had to offer.

I conducted investigations among the willing citizens. From their reluctant words, I pieced together fragments of information. The bridge from the bandit's memories did exist, but reaching it was a perilous endeavor.

To get there, one had to traverse a treacherous forest teeming with starving predators waiting to pounce on anything foolish enough to wander in.

Even the lifeless citizens, who seemed devoid of hope, strongly advised against the journey. Yet, their warnings only solidified my resolve. I took rest in the city for the night, my mind restless as I prepared for what lay ahead.

At dawn, I set out on what many would call a suicide mission. As I entered the forest, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm. The dense trees and filtered sunlight reminded me of the cursed forest I once called home. The air was heavy, the silence unnerving, yet it felt familiar.

However, this forest already had its own residents. Since my first step into the woods, an unsettling sensation crept over me—a lingering feeling of being watched. The dense foliage and the faint light made it impossible to confirm my suspicions. My heart raced, not with fear but with anticipation. Could it be the ghost himself, stalking me as I sought him?

The possibility gnawed at me. I moved cautiously, using myself as bait in the hopes of drawing him out. Minutes passed, and the tension in the air grew thicker. Then, a sound broke the oppressive silence—the rustling of leaves, not far from where I stood.

I dashed toward the noise, driven by desperation and hope. But instead of the ghost, I found myself face-to-face with a predator. A wolf lunged at me, its teeth sinking into my torso before I managed to shove it off.

Pain shot through me, blood soaking my clothes as the animal circled, emboldened by the scent.

I gritted my teeth and drew my katana, my mind sharpening as the reality of the fight settled in. The wolf charged again, but I met its aggression with calculated strikes, each slash chipping away at its strength.

Yet, none were fatal blows. It was a battle of endurance, and I knew a drawn-out fight would end in my loss.

Desperation fueled me. I ran, drawing the wolf toward a tree. As it leaped after me, I launched myself against the trunk, using it as a springboard to propel into the air.

The wolf's confusion was brief but fatal. I plunged my katana into its skull as I landed, ending its life in one decisive strike.

Blood dripped from me and the beast as I took a moment to catch my breath. The forest was silent once more, the echoes of the struggle fading into the stillness. I pressed on, my body screaming in protest as I made my way to the bridge.

The sight of it was surreal. The structure was in ruins, its planks worn and splintered, yet it stood—a monument to the ghost's supposed feat. Dried blood marked the area, evidence of past violence.

The memory I had glimpsed felt all too plausible now. If the ghost truly existed, he had been here. That alone was enough to push me forward, despite my worsening condition.

As I turned to leave, my steps faltered. My vision blurred, my strength waning from blood loss. Each breath felt heavier, my body teetering on the edge of collapse. Yet, I forced myself onward, determined to find shelter before it was too late.

Then I saw it—the unmistakable form of a predator. Standing before me was the alpha wolf, its eyes glowing with predatory intent. Its presence confirmed my worst fear: the pack was close.

The alpha lunged at me, claws raking my flesh as I thrust my katana into its gaping maw. The blade pierced through its nape, and the beast fell lifeless at my feet. But there was no time to celebrate. The pack had arrived.

Surrounded by eight wolves, my chances of survival plummeted. My body screamed in protest as I dodged their attacks, each evasion costing me more energy. Wounds accumulated, and my movements grew sluggish. My katana felt heavier with every swing.

Finally, my legs gave out. I fell to my knees, unable to summon the strength to stand. A wolf lunged at me, its jaws aiming for my throat. I raised my blade in a last, desperate attempt to defend myself, but my arms refused to obey.

The end seemed inevitable. Yet, just before the wolf's jaws could close around me, a hand reached out, grabbing the beast by its maw. With raw, unbridled strength, the wolf was torn apart.

My blurred vision focused just enough to make out the figure of a man. His physique was unmistakable—broad, powerful, and commanding. The corpse of the wolf hung limply in his hands as he turned to face me.

"I am..."